Struggles
by John Silver fan
Summary: The Hamato family's early struggles.


**Author's Note: This is a story that takes place during Splinter and the Turtles' early days.**

* * *

><p>Splinter watched his little turtle sons play with a smile on his muzzle. High above them, on the surface, rain poured down on New York, the most rain the city had seen in a long time. Rain meant life, but to Splinter, it also meant death. It had been raining the night Oroku Saki had murdered Tang Shen and Hamato Yoshi.<p>

"Ow!"

Splinter's right ear, or the half of it that he still had, flicked to catch the voice of his youngest and smallest son, Michelangelo. The little turtle came running to him in tears.

"Daddy, Raphie hit me!"

He scooped up his son as an angry Raphael came charging at his brother, furious at him for telling.

"Tattle tale!"

Splinter slapped his tail across the back of Raphael's thighs, making the tot jump.

"Raphael, I have told you many times not to hit your brothers or call them names. Michelangelo is smaller than you are and cannot play as rough as you. Go stand in the corner."

Raph stomped his foot in anger but complied at his father's stern look. Sighing, Splinter now turned his attention to Mikey. As always, when any of the turtles sought out his comfort, little fingers wove into the brown strands of his fur that his robes didn't cover. He rubbed the little one's shell, murmuring softly in Japanese, knowing that the tone and rhythm of his voice comforted his sons more then his words. Mikey calmed down and snuggled against him, making the rat smile.

"Raphael, come here and apologize to your brother."

His second oldest came over and looked up at them.

"Sorry, Mikey."

"It's okay, Raph."

Splinter put him down.

"Come, my little ones. It is bedtime."

He put them to bed with the customary groans, claims of not being sleepy despite their yawns, and ending their bedtime ritual with a softly sung Japanese lullaby. Turning off the light, he sought out his own bed and drifted off to sleep.

XXXXX

Something wasn't right. That was Splinter's first thought as he woke up from a deep sleep. He trusted his instincts and stood to check on his sons. Immediately he knew what had woken him. Their home was flooding. The water was already to his mid-calf, and it was still rising. He waded through the water to his sons' room and opened the door.

"Wake up, my sons."

Sleepy groans were heard as they stirred.

"Is it morning already, Daddy?"

"No, Leonardo. Our home is flooding. We must leave."

He could feel the current pulling at him so he carried them out of their home, which was really just a junction in this section of sewer. His ears picked up a sound that made his blood run cold. Rushing water, and it was headed right for them.

"Daddy!" Donatello cried.

Splinter only had enough time to turn so he took the blunt of the hit from the water, which washed him off his feet. He broke the surface and looked around.

"My sons?!"

"Daddy! Here we are, Daddy!" he heard Raph shout.

He spotted his little ones clinging to a piece of wood. He swam towards them and pulled Leo, Raph, and Donnie onto his back, snatching up little Mikey in his mouth. He paddled with the current, looking around desperately for a ladder he could use to climb to safety. He was quickly getting tired as he fought to keep them all above water as well as avoiding debris. At last he saw a ladder and grabbed onto it. He felt his sons tighten their grip on his clothes and fur then hauled them all out of the water, climbing for safety.

Since water was coming down from the upper levels as well he kept going right up to the surface. He heaved himself out of the manhole and flopped down onto solid ground, releasing Mikey as the other three got off his back. He forced himself up to re-cover the manhole and herded his sons behind the trash cans in the alleyway so they were hidden. The turtles huddled against their father, frightened by their experience in the sewers.

Splinter pulled Mikey over and kissed his forehead. No doubt suddenly finding himself in his father's jaws had been frightening; especially when said jaws were filled with sharp teeth and were strong enough to bite through some metal, which they had seen him do once before.

"Are you all right, my sons?" he asked tiredly.

"Uh-huh," was the universal answer.

He curled around them as they huddled close. A piece of wood, most likely part of a headboard or chest, had been put over the trashcans, shielding them from the falling rain.

The rodent shivered as the cold of the late fall night set in. He was soaked to the bone, and that made the cold even worse. He could feel his son's shivering and pulled them closer, using his body to shield them from the wind that got by the trash cans, though he had no heat to give them. Exhausted and still frightened, the turtles each fell asleep with one hand gripping their father's robe. He kept watch over them until he, too, fell asleep from exhaustion.

* * *

><p><strong>End Note: What will the happen now that they're exposed on the surface? Review please.<strong>


End file.
